


soda dominance

by thenerdlordparade



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Gen, Reader-Insert, and i could not find a way around having the best friend in there so, anyway take this six thousand word ramble, based on off topic 23, but i promise it's in there, i originally wrote this for myself and then tweaked it to be reader friendly, it's fucking achievement hunter what do y'all expect, oh uh also there is rampant swearing, on/around anyway, so it's only shippy if you squint, surprise! you the reader have a best friend named liz now!!, this is technically before any relationship stuff happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 03:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10505373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenerdlordparade/pseuds/thenerdlordparade
Summary: it's your first time on off topic and things get a little heated about soda. a challenge is made.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally based off when ryan drank that fuckall huge mug of diet coke in off topic 23 and somehow these fuckers talked so much it became 6000 words long.
> 
> please see the tags for an explanation as to why some things may not necessarily be 100% reader-insert friendly- ie, your best friend, your apparent love for diet sunkist, your height, etc. i tried my best, y'all. i changed some stuff from my original but there was other stuff that i couldn't change without rewriting the entire thing.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Hello everyone, and welcome to Off Topic. I'm your host Michael-”

 

“As fucking always.”

 

Michael didn't even break stride at Liz’s interruption. “Shut up newbie, and today I’m joined by-”

 

“[Y/N].”

 

“Liz!”

 

“Ryan.”

 

There was a short pause while everyone took a drink and Michael glanced towards a camera. “Two new faces today, couple of new editors for Achievement Hunter. I guess I can't call you Newbie,” he said, turning back to the two women in the middle, “because you're _both_ fucking newbies.”

 

“You could do like Thing One and Thing Two where instead it’s Newbie One and Newbie Two, but that doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well. Technically speaking though, I _was_ hired a week before Liz was,” you pointed out, leaning forward and grinning at Liz. “So if anyone here's the newbie it's Liz.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you.” Liz elbowed you in the side while you snickered. “ _One week,_ it’s all sixes.”

 

“Hey now, in the delineation between ‘newbie’ and ‘not newbie’, a single week counts!” you protested, gesturing vaguely with your can of soda.

 

“Barely been here for a month and you're already breaking out the big words,” Ryan said. “I approve.”

 

“At least she says them and doesn't flub ‘em like you do, Ryan,” Michael laughed. You and Liz _oooh’ed,_ sharing grins.

 

“Eh, well.” Ryan shrugged, opened his mouth to say something, shrugged again, and took a drink of his Coke instead.

 

The others all laughed. “He doesn't even have anything to say anymore,” said Liz, “he's just committed to it now.”

 

“Well when you're turned into a stereotype of constant flubbing, what else can you do?” you said. “You can fight it, but after a while you just have to fucking take it, there's nothing else to be done.”

 

“Speaking of stereotypes.” Michael pointed at you and Ryan, expression suddenly serious. “Everyone knows Diet Coke is _his_ thing, but I fucking swear I have never seen _you_ drink anything _but_ that diet orange bullshit.”

 

You looked mildly affronted. “Alright, okay, A, fuck you, it's delicious,” you said, “and B, fuck you, it's delicious.” As if to punctuate that, you took a long swig of your soda and set it back down on the table with a _clink_.

 

Liz raised her hand slightly. “I can attest, [Y/N] drinks nothing but her diet orange bullshit. She literally keeps a twelve-pack at her desk with a note taped to it-” she started miming writing emphatically, “-written in black sharpie, all caps, ‘ **[Y/N]’S SUNKIST, DON'T TAKE ANY IF YOU DON'T WANT TO DIE** ’.”

 

Michael started laughing, which then set Ryan off into quiet laughter, all while you stared into the active camera and shook your head slightly. When the laughter had mostly died down, Ryan turned slightly towards you. “Now see, my question,” he started, tapping the table as he spoke, “my question is, why Diet Sunkist specifically? I mean, it’s a pretty-” He fumbled for a bit before continuing, “-it’s not a _main_ brand, exactly.”

 

You considered the question, idly spidering your fingers along the can to turn it in place on the table. “Short answer, I’m gonna refer you back to points A and B. Longer answer…” You trailed off, lips quirking as you thought. “Well first off, the diet part is because my parents were nuts about normal soda having too much sugar so everything I drank had to be diet. It’s just habit now. Like, I’ve been drinking the diet stuff for so long that the normal soda tastes weird to me.”

 

“Weird?”

 

“Well yeah. Everyone says diet soda has a funny whang to it-”

“Which it does,” Michael interrupted.

 

“-but for me,” you continued, “it’s the other way around, where the normal stuff has the shit aftertaste.”

 

There was a chorus of groans around the table. “You’re a fucking weirdo,” Liz told you, giving you a shove.

 

“Hey, when you drink the stuff everyone says is bad for, y’know, fifteen fuckin’ years, you get acclimated to it.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your soda. “Kind of like you guys and your beer.”

 

“And that’s another thing!” Michael slapped the table, voice rising a bit. “You don’t fucking drink! You’re literally on a podcast set in a fucking _bar_ and you don’t fucking get anything from it, you just sit there drinking your orange shit!”

 

You lifted your hands, a mild expression on your face. “What can I say? I don’t like drinking piss water. Beer tastes nasty, man, why would you _willingly_ subject yourself to something that tastes awful just to acquire the taste?”

 

“You did that for the diet shit!” Ryan protested, but you waved it off.

 

“Like- for me,” you said, gesturing as you spoke, “I acquired a taste for diet soda because I didn’t have any other choice- it was diet soda or water, and I wanted to drink something with actual fuckin’ flavour to it.” You leaned back on your stool and drained the rest of your can, setting it back on the table and folding your arms. “I’ve been drinking it for so long that, when it comes to soda, I can probably drink any of you under the table, I guaran-fucking-tee it.”

 

Ryan, Michael, and Liz all shared a look; nobody spoke for a few seconds. “That sounds like a challenge to me,” Ryan said slowly.

 

“Could be. Whatcha gonna do about it, Haywood?” you said, a smug smile on your face. His eyebrows rose, clearly disbelieving, while Michael and Liz both started laughing again.

 

Once Michael stopped laughing long enough to talk, he gestured towards Ryan. “Now that’s _definitely_ a challenge. You gonna let the newbie talk to you like that?”

 

Ryan glanced over at the active camera, one eyebrow inching above the other. “I don’t know, am I? Seems like she’s pretty sure about the whole thing.”

 

“You want to do a drinking contest?” You leaned forward, grinning. “Diet Coke versus Diet Sunkist, right here, right now? I'll fight you, man, I'm scrappy. Fight me.”

 

“Oh fuck no.” He pulled a face. “My kidneys still hate me from having to drink that entire fucking mug during one podcast and that was _weeks_ ago.”

 

“What, this thing?” Michael leaned over on his stool, hooking one leg into the crossbar to keep himself anchored while he reached for the glass mug. He set it on the table in front of him and turned it towards the camera; the mug was, frankly, enormous, and proudly emblazoned with “I BET YOU CAN’T” in red lettering. “I don’t remember you drinking out of this, and I’m pretty fucking sure I’d remember that.”

 

“That was one of the ones you weren’t here for,” Ryan told him. “I got bullied into draining that fucking thing of Diet Coke to make up for you not being there and drinking your ass off.”

 

“Uh huh, _bullied_ , right.” You side-eyed Liz, nudging her in the side as you started to laugh. “Right, bullied is the word I’d use. Sure. Whatever you say.”

 

“It’s true!” Ryan gestured helplessly. “I didn’t want to, but Jack just started pouring the fucking Coke in and I had no choice!”

 

“No-” You leaned forward, gesturing sharply with your index finger. “ _No_ , I _watched_ that podcast, and you did not protest hardly at all. You said ‘no’ like one time, and when Jack didn't stop - because why would he? - you just shrugged and went ‘well this is my life now’. It's another fucking case of you drinking whatever is put in front of you!”

 

“I remember you telling me about that one,” said Liz, grinning widely. “I seem to recall you calling him a number of things at that point.”

 

You flushed slightly and kicked Liz under the chair. “Shut the fuck up.”

 

“For those who don't know,” Michael said, looking at the nearest camera, “[Y/N] and Liz were fans before they got hired. It was like Matt and Lil J all over again.”

 

“[Y/N] more so than me,” Liz said quickly, snickering. “She can tell you exactly which Minecraft Let's Play Joel was in, and which that Ryan first appeared in, where the Pubert Addams story came in, you get the point.”

 

“Oh, like you're any better when it comes to RWBY,” you said sarcastically, shaking your head and then leaning back from the table. “Fuckin’ hypocrite, you are so far up RWBY's ass you could probably tell me the precise timestamps of whenever Glynda is on screen, down to the second.”

 

Liz flushed. “You come into _my_ house-”

 

“Am I wrong?” you interrupted, smirking.

 

“Well-”

 

“ _Am I wrong?_ ”

 

Liz glared at you, shifting on her stool and muttering something unintelligible under her breath, pulling laughter from the others.

 

“I rest my case,” you said, satisfied. A quick glance to the camera, then- “It was the first On A Rail, the first Capture the Tower, and somewhere in the three-part nightmare that is Geoff’s House, by the way. You're fucking welcome.”

 

“That's not bad.” Ryan looked moderately impressed; meanwhile, Michael had dissolved into laughter again.

 

Your cheeks darkened a little more. “I binge watched- well, listened. You assholes kept me entertained while I was working at my last job.”

 

“Well at least we're good for something.” Ryan was starting to laugh now, but it was good-natured.

 

“How did you ever get away with watching us during work though?” Michael asked. “I mean, me alone- there was that swear jar going a while back just for this podcast and it was fucking full as _shit_. I swear enough to make even the most tolerant bosses rethink hiring me.”

 

“It's a decision I regret every day.” Geoff ambled on to the set, sidestepping the table to make a beeline right for the bar. Everyone greeted Geoff, but he just shook his head. “I'm not on the podcast today, I'm busy, I've got meetings.”

 

“That's what you say every time, and yet you always hang around telling stories about killing animals,” you pointed out.

 

Liz started laughing, looking slightly horrified. “What the fuck?”

 

You snickered. “It was another podcast, I'll tell you which one later.”

 

Geoff maintained his tired, unimpressed expression as he took a sip of his scotch and looked into the camera. “I'll have you know, those were all accidental or mercy killings.”

 

“That doesn't make it any better!”

 

He ignored Liz and shuffled over to lean on the table. “So why is the giant mug out?” he asked, nodding to the glass.

 

“[Y/N] thinks she can outdrink us in soda,” Ryan told him.

 

“She hasn't done anything about it yet though, so I'm wondering if she chickened out.” Michael grinned at your outraged expression.

 

“Hey, I issued a challenge to Ryan and he turned me down! I can't exactly do a soda drinking contest without an opponent!” you protested.

 

“Because I care about my wellbeing!” Ryan gestured widely. “I already subjected myself to that and it _did not_ feel good! Why would I do it _again?_ ”

 

“Because I issued a challenge and you look like a fucking coward for turning it down.” You were staring intensely at Ryan now; to his credit, he didn't back down and matched your gaze.

 

“That's not cowdarice- cowardice-” Everyone burst into raucous laughter at the flub, drowning Ryan out before he could finish. He shook his head and waited for the noise to die down, then started again. “That's not cowardice, that's good sense. _I don't want to die_ , at least not by _soda_.”

 

“How _do_ you want to die, Ryan? What would be your death of choice?” Liz snickered into her glass.

 

Completely straight faced, he replied, “Well I would never say no to death by snu snu.”

 

You leaned your elbows on the table, covering your face with your hands while everyone collectively lost their shit around you. “For fuck’s sake.”

 

“I can guarantee you,” Liz said, still laughing in between her words, “that a bunch of fans just went nuts because of that.” If she nudged you with her elbow under the table, it was at least subtle enough that the others didn't pick up on it.

 

“I don't doubt that,” Ryan said, looking towards a camera. “People just seem to be _enamored_ with me and I don't quite get it.”

 

Michael, Liz, and you all yelled, “ _Bullshit!”_ and slapped the table at the same time. That sent Geoff into hysterics, stepping back from the table to sag helplessly against the bar; Ryan at least had the decency to look a bit sheepish.

 

You sat forward, index finger out again and gesturing sharply, your face decidedly pink. “You know _exactly_ why, you motherfucker, it's the eyebrow-” At Ryan’s quizzical eyebrow raise, you stood up on the crossbars of your stool, one hand planted on the table to stay upright. “That! Exactly that! You fucking do _that_ with your eyebrow. There is no fucking way you don't know what you're doing with that. Fucking hell, put that thing back where it came from or so help me-”

 

Liz, still giggling and with one hand over her face, tugged on the back of your shirt to get you back down onto your stool, cutting off your tirade.

 

Reluctantly, you sat, fuming. You stared into the camera and deadpanned, “If you have ever felt personally victimized by Ryan Haywood’s eyebrows-” Another round of laughing started, Liz’s the loudest, but you barrelled on regardless, “-please feel free to subscribe to the channel. Fuck it, become a Rooster Teeth sponsor. If you’re anything like I was, you’re all gluttons for punishment anyway.”

 

Michael glanced over at the camera. “[Y/N], first time on the podcast and already doing my job for me, pushing the sponsor subscriptions. Next thing I know she's gonna replace me.”

 

“I don't think you have much to worry about, Michael,” you told him, your faux anger cracking into a grin. “I can get mad but nobody can reach the levels of vitriol you can. That's why you're the Rage Quit guy.”

 

“I don't know, man, you were full of the vinegar for a second there,” Michael laughed.

 

“For what it’s worth, I’m... sorry?” Ryan tried, laughing, a little confused, and looking back and forth between you and the camera.

 

“Shut the fuck up, no you’re not.”

 

“I’m really not,” he conceded. “It just- it still astonishes me just _how much_ something like that will send people into a frenzy.”

 

“I’m the Lorax of Achievement Hunter, I speak for the fans,” you said, picking up your empty soda can and frowning when you remembered you had already drained it. “... I need another drink.”

 

Wordlessly, Geoff grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the set and offered it to you, giggling to himself.

 

You made a face and batted him away. “I was talking about a fucking soda. I literally just said earlier that I don’t like your alcohol shit.”

 

He shrugged and turned away, draining the last of his drink and cracking open the bottle he had previously offered to refill his glass. “More for me.”

 

Liz took the opportunity to lean across the table and slide the mug casually over to you, a shit-eating grin on her face. “Here’s a nice big glass for your soda, [Y/N]. With the way you’ve been bragging today, it should be no problem for you to drink this down, right?”

 

Ryan immediately shook his head. “Don’t do it, you will regret it _so_ hard afterwards.”

 

You had looked a little dubious when Liz had initially put the huge mug in front of you, but once Ryan spoke you stiffened. “I can drain this thing of Sunkist faster than you did with your Coke,” you challenged, sitting up straighter and looking him dead in the eye.

 

He lifted his hands. “I’m not saying you _can’t_ , I’m just saying it’s probably not the best idea. Usually you’re supposed to _learn_ from other people’s mistakes, not repeat them.”

 

“I will pay you real cash money to fill that thing completely up with your diet orange stuff and then chug it,” Liz said, expression serious. “Like forty or fifty dollars kind of cash money.”

 

“I’ll throw in a hundo,” Geoff chimed in.

 

“Don’t you have a meeting or some shit to get to?” Ryan asked incredulously.

 

“Yeah, but,” Geoff shot Ryan a look over his glass, “this is more fun. I gotta protect my investment anyway.”

 

“Don’t know about you, Ry,” you said, grinning widely, “but a hundred and fifty dollars doesn’t sound like much of a mistake to me.”

 

Ryan threw his hands up, conceding the point. “Alright, fine, but don't complain to me when you're all fucked up.”

 

“Ryan-” Michael broke off, laughing. “Ryan, your inner dad is showing again.”

 

“That just makes me want to do it more, to be honest.” You fixed Ryan with a smarmy smile. “Tell me off again, Daddy.”

 

Liz nearly fell off her chair she was laughing so hard; Geoff muttered a quiet “Oh my God,” into his whiskey.

 

“I don't know how to respond to that,” Ryan said, glancing between you and the camera.

 

“So I should clarify,” you said after the laughter died down again, “that that was one hundred percent a joke and I don't _actually_ have a daddy kink.”

 

Geoff shook his head. “Even if you don't you're never going to get away from it now. You are straight up _fucked_.”

 

“But at least I made the statement that I don't on camera, so that everyone knows that if it ever comes up again it's a joke.” You sat back from the table, now holding the glass mug in your lap. You worried your lip, glancing around the table. “I _do_ feel like I went a little too far with that one so-” you drew the word out, “I'm just, uh, gonna go get enough cans to fill this thing up. And give it a quick rinse,” you added, tilting it up to look inside it and wrinkling your nose.

 

“Yeah, I don't think it's really been washed since I was drinking from it last time,” Ryan said.

 

You slid from your stool, making an exaggerated face of disgust. “ _Eww_ , Ryan cooties. Better give it more than just a quick rinse. I'll be back in like an hour.”

 

Ryan spread his hands helplessly, calling after you, “What are you, like _five?_ ” You laughed as you walked off, just loud enough for the mics to pick up, then- “And now she's flipping me off.”

 

“Don't worry, Ryan,” Liz said, still giggling, “I have it on good authority that she mercilessly teases people she likes. Kind of like how Geoff insults you when he likes you, actually.”

 

There were a couple seconds where nobody spoke, then Geoff slid into your vacated seat next to Liz. Glancing around to the others, he asked, “So do you think she can do it?”

 

“The soda thing?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Liz’s answer was immediate. “Yes. She might make herself sick doing it, but she will absolutely suck that thing dry. I mean, she already drinks like three or four cans a day.”

 

“Ryan?”

 

He shook his head. “I don't think so. It's more likely that she'll get halfway through it - at best - and have to stop.”

 

“Michael?”

 

“I dunno, it could go either way. [Y/N]’s pretty stubborn-”

 

“Like a fuckin’ mule,” Liz added.

 

“-so she might just chug it all down through sheer willpower.”

 

Geoff considered each of their answers, then finally said, “I don't think she can do it.” At Liz’s sharp look, he said quickly, “Not for lack of trying! I just don't think she exactly has the _capacity_ for that much liquid. She's fucking tiny! Liz, how tall-?”

 

“Five-three.”

 

“She's barely taller than Meg!” Ryan exclaimed. “She stands next to me and comes up to like- _here_.” He put his hand next to his shoulder a few inches down from the top of it.

 

Liz shook her head, leaning forward on her stool and gesturing as she spoke. “Look, [Y/N] might be short, but the thing with short people is that they are powered purely by _spite_. Salt and spite and rage. When [Y/N] gets something into her head, she doesn't fucking back down.”

 

“It sounds like,” Michael said, taking a drink of his beer and glancing at the camera, “to me, anyway, that we _should_ be betting on this. Clearly we can't agree, so why not put money on it?”

 

“I'm already in fifty for her to do it,” Liz said, leaning back. “You guys do what you want.”

 

“Geoff, Ryan?”

 

“I've got a full hundred going to her to do it, but I will bet you that she can't for, eh…” Geoff deliberated, humming. “Another twenty.”

 

Ryan nodded. “Twenty bucks that she can't do it.”

 

“And I say she _can_ , for forty bucks- twenty each to you and Geoff,” Michael said. “I think we have a deal.”

 

“Prepare to fucking lose then,” Liz told them. “I've known [Y/N] for a couple years now and she is a soda drinking _fiend_.”

 

You walked back on to the set at that point, juggling the giant mug - now with a layer of ice clattering around the bottom of it - and five cans of orange soda in your arms. Ryan stood partway to reach over and take a couple of the cans so it was easier for you to get back to your seat; you aimed a grateful smile at him. “I hope you're all saying what a great and lovable person I am,” you said, setting everything on the table and sitting back down when Geoff got up.

 

“And if you believe that then you'll believe that Ryan has announced that he'll be returning to his old male modeling job,” Liz told you, grinning.

 

Ryan didn't say anything; he just looked into the active camera while you gave Liz a shove and another “shut the fuck up”.

 

“So [Y/N],” Michael started, “run us through the bet. You gonna chug it?”

 

“As much as I can,” you replied, cracking open each of the cans one after the other. “But specifically I'm betting that I can drink this entire thing faster than Ryan did on- what was that, Off Topic 23?”

 

Ryan waved vaguely. “Something like that. How long did that even take me anyway? I wasn't exactly keeping track with how much I wanted to die by the end of that.”

 

Liz had pulled her phone out by that point, scrolling through something. “[Y/N] actually had this figured out a while ago,” she said, “I just gotta find it.”

 

Ryan lifted an eyebrow. “You timed me?”

 

“In passing.” You were starting to pour the soda now, a can in each hand, and adjusting how quickly you poured to be sure the mug didn't overflow with foam. “The first time I watched it I was sure I could do it faster than you, and a friend asked how long it took, so I made an estimate.”

 

Michael laughed a bit, shaking his head. “That sounds like the most fan-ish thing I've heard you do.”

 

“Don't get me started. Seriously, don't,” you said, setting the first two empty cans down and pausing to let the foam recede. “There are some things better left in the greasy underbelly of the fandom, trust me.”

 

“About forty minutes,” Liz piped up, setting her phone back down on the table. “According to past [Y/N], it took Ry about forty minutes to choke down all that Diet Coke.”

 

He nodded slightly. “Sounds about right. You sure I can't still talk you out of this?” he asked, directing the last part to you.

 

You didn't bother to answer; you just picked up another can, started pouring its contents into the mug, and stuck out your tongue at Ryan.

 

Liz laughed. “What did I tell you? _Spite_.”

 

“You telling people I'm fueled by salt and spite and rage again, Liz?”

 

“It's true, isn't it?” Liz grinned.

 

“Well- okay, yeah, for some things, but-”

 

Liz slapped the table, interrupting you, and everyone started laughing. “No, no takebacks, you've admitted it now.”

 

You adopted a mock pout, setting an empty can down on the table. “I like to think I'm at least a _little_ nice. Don't I get points for that?”

 

“No.”

 

Ryan's reply was so flat and straight-faced that it caught you by surprise; you blinked, stared at him for a second, then you burst into laughter. As much as he tried to hold his serious expression, it broke only a few moments later into a sheepish smile.

 

It didn't take much longer to get all five cans of Diet Sunkist poured into the mug, and it was a sight to behold. The printed red words on the mug were lost to the cheery orange of the soda, and there was an impressive pastel orange head of foam topping it. “That is a fucking monstrosity,” Geoff said. “Nothing should be that bright of a colour.”

 

“I hate to break it to you,” you said, glancing at the older man, “but actual oranges are this colour. So are carrots.”

 

“That stuff barely had an orange passed over the top of it while they were making it,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “There is zero actual fruit content in that shit. It's all dyes and artificial flavours.”

 

“You think I don't know that? I grew up with an orange tree in my backyard- and a lemon tree that shit lemons out of every fucking possible branch too, for that matter.” You pulled a face, shivering exaggeratedly. “Never again.”

 

Geoff shuffled closer to the table again. “Less talking, more drinking. I really want to see if you can do this.”

 

You shot him a mild look of indignation. “Calm down, Geoff, I have to let it breathe a bit.” Gesturing to the layer of foam that was still slowly receding, you continued, “I don't want to start chugging it only to get a snoot full of fizz. Bit detrimental to the effort, y'know?”

 

Geoff just looked at you, expression kept carefully neutral. “A ‘snoot full of fizz’,” he repeated slowly.

 

“Shut up, it's a valid phrase.” You stuck your tongue out again, this time to Geoff. “You understood perfectly well what I meant.”

 

“She _does_ have a point,” Ryan said. “It gets the message across while still having a charming sort of imagery to it.”

 

“Oooh, Ryan thinks you're charming, [Y/N],” Liz laughed, elbowing you.

 

You pinked slightly, but kept an expression of haughty indifference on your face. “As well he should. I am a _fucking delight_.” The haughty indifference didn't last long- it broke into a crooked grin halfway through your sentence.

 

“God fucking dammit, stop flirting and just drink already!” Michael yelled.

 

You didn't bother responding; you just lifted a middle finger to Michael and grabbed the mug’s handle with your other hand. The full mug quivered, soda slopping unnervingly close to the edge when you tried to heft it up to drink. You quickly abandoned your gesture to Michael in favour of steadying the mug.

 

The others all watched, rapt at attention and awaiting your next move.

 

You paused, looking at them over the rim of the mug. “It's a little creepy having all of you stare at me at the same time like that.”

 

Geoff lost it at that point. “Would you just _get on with it_ already?”

 

You grinned at him. “The suspense is the best part, Geoff, you should know that. Maybe I'll just go even slower now.”

 

“You won't if you want to win this,” Liz told you. “Seriously, c’mon, enough with the teasing.”

 

“Alright, alright. Sheesh. All y'all are impatient as fuck, you know that?”

 

“Technically I'm not encouraging this-”

 

“Shut up, Ryan.” You cut him off and finally, _finally_ started drinking. Liz started up a timer on her phone. The huge mug almost completely hid your face as you drank; only your forehead was visible over the rim as you tilted it up.

 

The set was silent. Everyone was watching you. It was a full ten seconds before anyone spoke again.

 

“Holy shit,” Geoff murmured.

 

Michael started laughing. “She's still going.”

 

You kept drinking. You weren’t taking huge gulps, but there was already a visible difference in the amount of liquid left in the mug.

 

“Jesus fuck, stop!” Ryan burst out. “Breathe!”

 

A snort from you jittered the mug; you finally pulled it away from your face and set it back on the table with a content sigh. “I'm breathing just-” you broke off to let out a loud belch, “-fine,” you finished, grinning. “There was a method to my madness, see Geoff? I would've choked if I hadn't waited for the foam to go down.”

 

Liz also grinned back at Geoff. “I fucking told you.”

 

He just shook his head with a sigh. “Un-fucking-believable…”

 

Michael laughed. “You burp like a dude.”

 

“And how, pray tell,” you asked, arching an eyebrow, “would one burp like a girl? Seriously, I’m curious now, how would you burp like a girl when you’re drinking this much carbonated shit?”

 

“I don’t think you’re going to win this one, Michael,” Ryan said. He was trying not to smile, but it was something of a losing battle.

 

“Yeah,” Liz agreed, “give up while you’re ahead.”

 

You nodded at Liz and Ryan, lifting the mug in a cocky sort of toast to them before taking a long quaff.

 

Michael shrugged. “You just didn't strike me as the sort to let out a fuckin’ burp to shake the rafters, y’know? But fine, fine.”

 

Again, no one spoke as they all watched you drink. When you resurfaced next, you frowned. “For fuck’s sake, guys, can you not find something else to talk about while I drink this? It’s kinda _really weird_ having all of you staring at me.”

 

“Maybe we like looking at you,” Ryan pointed out.

 

“Maybe _you_ do, Haywood,” Liz retorted, grinning widely. “Dunno about the rest of us though…” She trailed off as Ryan turned red and everyone else started laughing- even you, who almost choked on a mouthful of soda when you accidentally inhaled a bit.

 

The next twenty minutes or so of the podcast passed normally: any topic went, with swearing and raucous laughter breaking out often. You continued to nurse the gigantic mug of soda; it was only filled about a quarter of the way now, but it was clear that you were slowing down.

 

At a lull in the conversation, Geoff turned to Liz. “Time?”

 

“She’s been working on it for close to, “ she drew out the word as she unlocked her phone and checked the timer, “twenty five minutes, now.”

 

“Damn. She’s not far off,” Michael said, nodding towards the mug.

 

“It gets harder the closer you are to being done,” Ryan said darkly, looking over at you with a concerned expression. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Stubborn as a mule, just like I said!” Liz said cheerily, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

 

Ryan gave an over-dramatic, long-suffering sigh. “I tried.”

 

“It’s not like I’m gonna _die_ , Ryan,” you said, fixing him with a sullen look as you took another sip.

 

“You’re gonna _want_ to die by the time you’re done with that, I guarantee it.”

 

“Fuck you,” you muttered again.

 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said, a hint of a sing-song tone sneaking in.

 

If you had looked sullen before, your expression then shifted to what could only have been described as mulish; holding direct eye contact with Ryan, you lifted the mug and began to chug the remaining contents.

 

“Shit.”

 

“She’s doing it,” Liz cheered, “she’s doing it! Yeah!” She started up a chant of “chug, chug, chug” that Michael joined in on. Geoff and Ryan shared a concerned look.

 

“I’m gonna have to pay a hundred fucking bucks, aren’t I?” Geoff asked no one in particular.

 

“It’s looking that way,” Ryan replied.

 

“ _Fuck_.” Geoff looked away. “I don’t have a hundred bucks on me right now, fuck.”

 

“You’ll have to give her a rain check then.”

 

“ _Fuck_.”

 

With a deep, gasping breath, you finished the mug and clunked it down dramatically on the table, lifting your arms and letting out a short whoop of triumph- and then immediately slumped over on the table, groaning. “Fuck. You. Haywood.” That set Liz off into laughter again, slapping the table.

 

Michael was the first to speak after that. “Pay up, bitches!” he barked over Liz’s giggling, grinning at Geoff and Ryan with a hand outstretched.

 

Geoff flipped through his wallet, grumbling bitterly the entire time, but, true to his word, tossed a twenty at Michael’s face. Ryan was more resigned than bitter; he simply dug in his pocket and dropped the crumpled bill in Michael’s hand.

 

“Hey,” you said weakly, lifting your head, “I get paid too, fuckers. Don’t think I forgot that you,” you gestured to Liz and Geoff in turn, “both promised me money.”

 

“I don’t fucking have a hundred dollars in my pocket!” Geoff protested loudly.

 

“I’ll give you the fifty I promised when we get home,” Liz said.

 

You nodded, and fixed Geoff with as intense a stare as you could muster from your position flopped half over the table. “I’m gonna hold you to this, I won’t let you forget that you promised.”

 

Geoff groaned, but agreed. “ _Fine_. Fuck. I'm super late, I better go.” Draining the last of his drink, he left the empty glass on the counter and walked off the set. Everyone yelled a quick goodbye- or in your case, grunted and flapped an arm in a limp wave goodbye.

 

“So [Y/N],” Ryan asked, bending down to be closer to your eye level, “do you feel like dying?”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re a shitty liar, [Y/N],” Liz laughed. It wasn’t hard to believe her, with how you were still bent down with your cheek pressed awkwardly to the table.

 

“ _Traitor_ ,” you grumbled. “Okay, yes, fine, I feel a little like death. Only a little though.”

 

“I hate to say I told you so, but-”

 

“Don’t even start, Ryan,” you said, heaving yourself back upright. “Sure I feel like shit now but that hundred and fifty bucks will be sweet long after it fades.”

 

Ryan lifted his hands. “Alright,” he said mildly. “I concede. You have indeed proven that you can fuck up your kidneys faster than I can.”

 

“No, she’s proven that she’s better than you,” Liz corrected, high-fiving you.

 

“I have established dominance over the Mad King,” you deadpanned. “Fear me.”

 

“ _Oooohoho_ ,” Michael laughed. “She’s coming for your crown, Ry. You gonna take that lying down?”

 

“I feel so threatened, that someone can drink soda faster than I can. Oh no. What will I do,” Ryan said sarcastically. “I think my _crown_ is safe, Michael.“

 

“Soda today, the world tomorrow,” you said nonchalantly. “You gotta start somewhere, Ry.”

 

“Uh huh.” It was clear that he didn’t believe you. “That’s all your plan is, then, from soda straight to world domination?”

 

You affected an injured expression. “You wound me. Every prospective mad monarch has to have a better plan than that.”

 

“And this plan would be…?” When you didn’t answer, Ryan arched an inquiring eyebrow.

 

“What makes you think I’m gonna tell you?” You laughed, but broke off into a pained groan as you wrapped an arm around your middle. You were still too full of soda to laugh fully without it hurting, but it didn't take long for you to recover. “Why would I tell the current quote-unquote ‘ _Mad King_ ’,” you made sarcastic air quotes at the phrase, “any of my prospective plans to usurp his throne? That’s like the first rule in making sure your plans work- don’t fucking tell people about them!”

 

Michael started laughing again, leaning back on his stool. “You gotta admit, she does have a point.”

 

“Smart.” Ryan held your gaze, an intense look in his eyes- truly the eyes of the Mad King, viewers would say. “You might have promise.”

 

You stared right back at him, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. You weren’t about to back down.

 

The silence started to get awkward after about ten seconds of this.

 

“So…” Michael drew out the word, “are you two going to bang now?”

 

“No, hate fucking comes later,” Liz cut in. “Get it right.”

 

“But eventually they will, right?”  
  
Ryan rolled his eyes, breaking the intense stare as he shook his head. “Fuck off, Michael.” You just ignored him, laying your head back on the table again. Ryan tilted his head, catching your eye. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” he asked, smiling crookedly.

 

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” you grumbled. “I already told you, the money’s gonna stay good way longer than this fuck shit’s gonna be bad.”

 

“No regrets, then?”

  
“No regrets.” You paused, wrinkled your nose, and ducked your head for a moment to muffle a burp. “Okay, maybe like two regrets. _Maybe_.”

**Author's Note:**

> so uhhhhhhhh there you have it
> 
> this is literally the only thing i've really ever actually finished and it's... selfship. or it was, and then i tweaked it to be reader-insert but. still.


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